Boundaries
by MarshmellowDragon
Summary: Crona wishes she could do more than hold Maka's head in her lap and hope for her to get better. Comfort has never been her forte.


**NOTE: this has minor spoilers from episode 51, mostly relating to how Maka fared against Asura. Nothing major, but still. Just felt like warning anyone who cares.**

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"_You'll never know the way it tears me up inside to see you  
I wish that I could tell you something to take it all away  
Sometimes I wish I could save you"_

_-"Save you", Simple Plan  


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Maka had looked fine.

And so had Soul.

And Tsubaki. And Black Star. And Death the Kid. And the Thompson sisters.

They had all looked healthy, acted healthy, _been_ healthy when Crona had swooped in for a landing on the wreckage of Arachnophobia's base. They'd welcomed her, hugged her. Maka had cried out and refused to let go and rubbed snot on Crona's dress because she'd been worried or something. (And because Ragnarok was too tired to comment, Crona had slowly twisted and lurched her arms into place and hugged back)

Stein had healed Crona; restarted the black blood like a car engine, and then Ragnarok had done the rest. The hole in her chest where…things…had happened…(Medusa-sama is her mother and only worthless daughters hate their mothers…but Medusa-sama tried to kill her so doesn't that mean…?) the wound is no longer there. Gone. A thing of the past. She can forget, if she chooses. Crona isn't injured anymore.

But Maka is.

Stein mutters something about freed souls and temporary stasis and good karma; it's a reason, maybe, why everyone has suddenly collapsed around her, knees buckling and eyes rolling backwards in their skulls like puppets with their strings cut. Black Star moans, and Soul hisses in pain, but Maka remains still and… (not lifeless. Never lifeless. Maka is _alive._ And she will continue to live)

But Crona doesn't really care _why_ Maka's abdomen is slowly turning purple, why her arm flops funnily to the side, why her throat is all bruised and stained, or why she's coughing up blood and can't stop. The reason is irrelevant. Crona just wants Maka to be better. Her friend won't die, Maka's too strong to die, but the thought continues to cling on, whispering in her ear that everything is most definitely _not okay_ and that she should've been there _and look what you've done you worthless child._

This is why Crona jumped in front of the arrow. Because she doesn't know how to deal with this. The waiting. The sitting here with Maka's head in her lap and trying to think of something, anything that she can do. The hoping that something will happen. (She doesn't know _how_ to hope because every time she's dared, things get thrown back in her face. Hope is like a mother; both are supposed to be benevolent, and she doesn't understand either)

"You'll get better." She whispers, more to herself than the (deathly?) pale girl gathered in her lap. Is she even awake now? Crona hopes…wishes…something. She's not sure what she wants. If Maka's awake, then she's in pain. If she's out cold, then Crona is alone. Coddled as she is now, Crona doesn't want to think about that; she's been spoiled by having Maka dote over her and pull her up from the cold, loving embrace of Mr. Corner. But now it's her turn to support Maka. Or something like that. She doesn't know how she's supposed to deal with this.

The blonde whimpers, hands twitching in something that's probably pain. The pinkette cringes, face drooping in something that's most definitely disappointment. Bodily contact on its own isn't helping. Wishes aren't helping.

"You'll be fine." Crona repeats as if it's a mantra, warily eyeing the purple splotch snaking its way outward from the handprint Asura left behind. "You won't leave me." (You _can't_ leave me. Because you said we're friends. And friends don't die on each other, because that's mean. Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?!) Maka is bleeding and in pain. _Dying?_ _Dying, dying, dead,_ whispers some part of her that sounds too much like Medusa-sama. _And it's all your fault because you sat there and believed she'd win._ Believing in someone isn't the same as actually helping, now is it?

"Punctured her liver…" Stein mutters from somewhere in the distance.

Waiting for better words to appear in her head, or maybe for an idea to magically strike her like a bolt of lightning, the girl twists her fingers into the cracked pavement. _Friends_. The word is heavy on her mind because friends (that's what she and Maka are…right?) are supposed to be able to do something at times like this, aren't they? What's so wrong with her that she can't solve so simple a problem?! (But it's not simple, never has been. This isn't a fight to the death where everything is clear as crystal and it's simple as either kill or be killed. This is too hard. She doesn't know what to do. Maka is mad. She's angry and she's taking it out on Crona by making this difficult)

How, exactly, do you comfort someone? The question goes unanswered. Rattles around in her skull; or maybe that's just Ragnarok throwing a hissy fit because Maka never gave him his candy.

"Maka…" The words are raspy and strained, and it takes Crona a moment to realize that they aren't her own. Soul isn't able to stand, but he's crawling towards them to make up for it. Slowly. Painfully too, it looks like. (Of course he's in pain. Some part of her chastises. He actually _did_ something. Unlike you. Who sat there and watched. Fat lot of good that did)

It's awkward to watch. (Everything about this whole "being social" is awkward anyway, but this moreso) Should she help? Get up and pull Soul closer so that he doesn't have to drag his battered and bruised body across the pavement? He's her friend too. Friends are supposed to do stuff like that.

But Maka…she can't jolt Maka by standing. For a moment, Crona decides she can just track his progress with her eyes, make sure that he doesn't pass out or something. But, the thought occurs to her, if she keeps watching Soul then he might notice her. And then he'd realize that she wasn't helping, just staring, and he'd get angry and then he'd _yell_. (No. No. No. It's not irrational. People never believe her when she says they yell. Really) She doesn't know how to deal with people yelling at her. Too loud. Too scary. She can take angry punches; she could slice a blade across his throat if he started attacking this close to Maka. (if he _endangered_ Crona's friend) But he won't, because they're partners. Soul wouldn't attack. Would never think of it.

(So why does her imagination entertain fantasies of him aiming to strike Maka and her down where they huddle for some vague and insane reason; why does she dream of rising up to actually _protect_ Maka from her own weapon? Dreams where Maka sees how much Crona means to her and the blonde leads her into the sunset for their happily ever after, just like the ones in the picture books)

The clouds; Crona stares up at the clouds peppering the blue sky, purposefully ignoring the fact that Soul crawls ever closer. She doesn't know what to say to him either, so she pretends that she hasn't noticed his mission of movement yet.

Maka whimpers again. Crona wishes that Stein would hurry up and get the painkillers.

"Come on…" Soul mutters against the pavement. "Don't quit on me now, Maka. Hard part's over. Asura's gone." He takes in a raspy breath, pulling himself a bit nearer. Repeats the process. Crona can see him out of the corner of her eye, looking every bit the dedicated partner that she knows he is. Maka's fine, Crona wants to say. It's okay. Lay down. I've got this covered. _She doesn't need you_. (But Crona knows that's a lie)

In the time it's taken her to run through the hypothetical conversation, Soul has finally made it to his destination, and the sword-user deems that it's now okay and not _quite_ as awkward to openly watch what he's doing. If he brings up the fact that he had to drag himself over on his elbows and knees, she plans to respond that she hadn't noticed him until now.

He's reaching for something, Crona realizes. And for a moment she's deathly afraid that he's going to steal Maka away from her. (Which she very much deserves. Because she's just Crona, worthless Crona who can't do things right. Who couldn't help. Who left Maka alone against Asura)

But it's just a hand he takes. And she can deal with letting him have that, at least. Maka's head is still gathered in her lap and Crona wishes to keep it that way. Nothing will hurt her friend. Not with Crona here. As if in response, her fingers twitch and Ragnarok hums from somewhere within her head; He hasn't gotten to kill anything lately, so he's kind of hungry. He'll help her kill anything that gets too close. The she-pig still owes him some candy.

Soul's fingers lace together with Maka's, squeezing as if they can push life into the pale body. Or maybe they're trying to pull pain out of the broken form. Why hadn't Crona thought of that? She eyes the other hand for a moment, before abandoning the idea on the grounds that jarring Maka's broken-looking arm is a Very Bad Idea.

"Stupid meister." He grumbles. "Making me move like this." Pausing, Soul ducks his head lower than it already is, shielding his face from view. "Worrying me like this." The words are spit out quickly, as if they burn, but Crona knows better. Admitting things like that is hard for most; downright impossible for her. The threat of rejection (Or worse, mockery. Or anger) always hangs heavy in the air like a blade, waiting to sever bonds with all the care of a butcher knife.

"Come on. Wake up." He squeezes again. "I'm here now." Unspoken are the words that he's here to protect her from the pain, or at the very least try just like Crona is. But unlike her, Soul actually has a good idea of how to do it. Somehow, his hand meshed with hers is more comforting than Crona's attempt to act as a pillow. Less contact, more feeling.

The blonde shifts slightly. From the pain? No. Waking up? Maybe. Soul smiles all the same, taking the movement as a good sign. Fidgeting awkwardly, Crona wonders if she should be spouting words of encouragement as well. But no matter how she racks her brain, none come to mind.

"Soul…" And she speaks. Eyes wide, Crona fights down the urge to cry out. Maka is _talking_. She'll live! (No thanks to you)

"Yeah." He grins. "Yeah, it's me. You okay?" Maka snorts, bringing up a glob of blood in the process. "Right." The weapon amends. "Stupid question." Crona doesn't really think it's all that funny that Maka's hurt, but she's obviously missing something.

"Bet you're wishing you hadn't jumped off that pillar."

"Shut up." She moans, half opening her eyes to glare at her weapon. Crona is ignored. "I felt fine when I did it." Her voice is raspy, barely above a whisper, and the pink haired one wishes that the blonde would just stop talking. She's in _pain_. The bruising on her neck says that Asura was choking her at some point. She should rest. (Or at the very least, she could talk to Crona)

What would it take, she wonders, to learn how to do this. To be close to someone. To talk to them this easily. Is there a secret technique? Some hidden scroll? Magic? There has to be a trick to it, just like there's a trick to killing. She thinks of bunnies when she kills. What does she think of when she sputters strings of sounds that almost make words?

Maka's face comes to mind.

The same fact that's focused on Soul's. It doesn't really look like it'll be changing direction anytime soon. But still, is it so much to ask for Maka to just look up? (Yes. Yes it is. Because the blonde always has to help Crona with this difficult thing called 'making conversation', and Crona can understand that Maka is far too tired and sore to put any effort into helping the sword user at the moment)

Crona understands. She doesn't deserve the attention after all the things she's done. It makes sense…but it hurts. Hurts worse than an arrow through the stomach. (Because at least then, she was fading away for Maka's sake) She can't deal with this.

It's not _fair_ that she has to deal with this.

(But for Maka, she'll try)

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_So, this is most likely out of character for Crona. Because I didn't really pick up too many jealousy vibes from her when Soul and Maka go into OTP mode near her. However, I always pictured Crona kind of wishing that she was as close to Maka as Soul was, and so…this was born. Go figure. (I swear, that random bit with Soul attacking is just that. Random. Crona has a vivid imagination? yeah, go with that)  
_

_Thoughts on characterization? Anyone? Crit would be appreciated._

_(Really needs to finish next chap of Tightrope)_

_Random thing. You know how Maka and Soul have a song together? Well, I want one with Maka and Crona. Or Crona and Ragnarok. Don't care. Gimme some Crona._

_So…who else wished there'd been an epilogue of some sort at the end of 51? And who else thought that the forehead thing in 49 was actually gonna be a smooch? And who else thought the handholding in 51 was cute? Er, yeah. Despite the fact that Soul was utterly owned at the beginning, there's still a wealth of OTP to find. (read: naked hugging from 50) Now if the end had just had a little more...  
_


End file.
